


Cephalon Fragments - Kaus

by Punch_Detective



Category: Warframe
Genre: Eye Trauma, Gen, Murder, cephalon, cephalon creation, character backstory, god how do i tag this, its kind of awful, orokin being orokin, shit man idk, uh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 17:05:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14981654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Punch_Detective/pseuds/Punch_Detective
Summary: Quote from man stabbed: What are you going to do, stab me?





	Cephalon Fragments - Kaus

Preparing for my own execution was one of the most surreal experiences I have had.  I was swamped by them, their gilded words wrapping around my mind and keeping me from fighting back - a fact they knew all too well, if the incessant chatter I was subjected to was any indication.  They dressed me in their colors and cloth, white silken robe wrapping around me as they fussed over my appearance like I was something to be displayed instead of a living being at the end of their life.

 

They talk about me, gossiping and wondering aloud which stories they had heard about me were true.   _ Did he really cut down a Sentient? _  They ask, directing the question over my head and to their companions - who shake their heads and say nobody could know even though the man who could tell them is sitting right there - looking at his own reflection in the mirror and feeling like the person staring back is a stranger.

 

They had done so much to make me presentable - shaving off a few days’ worth of stubble and bathing and scrubbing me until my skin glowed as theirs did.  Creams and pigments slathered across my face to hide the marks of aging that they seemed to hate or possibly even fear. My hair had been left well enough alone.  It had been washed and brushed out until it was smooth, but it was primarily left as it grew - black and glossy like the feathers of some avian creature. They were fussing with it now, trying to decide if they wanted it up or down - tugging on it to the point where it hurt because even tamed as it was there were strands that would never cooperate.  

 

The man in the mirror was a complete stranger to me by the time they were done.  My face, yes, but pulled over the body of one of their elites. The man in the mirror was no longer myself as my handlers congratulated themselves on a transformation well done.  I only saw myself when another came in, holding my swords with an expression I could not determine. It was either one of reverence or disgust - hard to tell the difference when you only saw them mixed together as you were paraded around, murderer for hire.  The man in the mirror was me for a moment when he saw the reflection of those swords - the fire I was known for reigniting for a few blessed moments before it once again died - snuffed out by the silken trappings and gilded words that held me more securely than any chains could.

 

I stood, gaze dropping away from the mirror.  My handlers all but scattered as I moved, taking the familiar worn grips of my blades into hand before laying them down, expertly folding them into cloth and tying them around my waist.  I moved like a man in a trance, muscle memory guiding my motions while my conscious mind revolted against my body, although to no avail. I was unable to stop my motions. Caged in my own mind.

 

They began to walk me down to one of their great halls, flanking me as if they were guards or perhaps old friends, still talking amongst themselves.  Speaking of me as though I could not hear them. Regaling each other with stories of my life as if I was some fictional hero they could describe and discuss.   _ He sold himself to us _ , they said as if everyone around did not already know my history.   _ In exchange for the protection of his colony.  He was a young man then. Softer and more handsome than now, but he said he could fight so we took him and saw what he could do.  If he lived, his colony would be safe. If he died, there would be no promises. His colony was safe for a time that was short to our lives but so long to his. _

 

_ He was a force to be reckoned with.  He fought with tooth and nail and when he was given the swords he now wears he named them as such, decorating them with medallions from the home he strove to protect to remind himself why he fought.  Why he became the creature that stands before you now. He may look human, but he burned away his own humanity to make way for hate and anger to fuel his bloodthirsty actions. _

 

Inaccurate, but I could not speak to correct them.  They told the story of the man they thought I was. The fighter of tooth and nail, Kalis Orous - Mercenary.  They spoke next of my crimes. My refusal to assist once I learned the truths of Continuity and of the mysterious Tenno.  I refused to perpetuate their system and painted my blades with their golden blood and they gave me a new name. The Breaker of the Cycle.  One of the many I cut down that day did not return. I had killed an Orokin, and for that I was to be punished.

 

As they spoke of my ‘crime’ - of my refusal to allow children to be taken from their families and traumatized, I found myself holding my head high and squaring my broad shoulders because if that was my crime than it was one I was proud to be guilty of.  

 

_ So beautiful, even as an old man. _  One of the handlers said, reaching out to stroke my hair like I was an animal.   _ I wonder if he has any children.  If everyone on his colony is this beautiful, I think I’ll choose one of them for Continuity.  After all, once he dies there will be no more agreement. No more protection. _

 

My world turned red.  We had just entered the great hall and I did not see it, the hot rage that had been held in check finally breaking me out of the placidity I had been placed in.  Extravagant hairstyle was ruined as I tore the decorations from my head and charged the one who had spoken. The pins were not long enough to kill, but I knew death was not punishment enough.  So I aimed to maim. To disfigure. To show everyone the ugliness I saw beneath their perfect skin.

 

Golden blood poured from the man’s eye socket as I twisted the headdress into his face, carving at his cheeks and nose before tossing it aside and going in with my bare hands, driving my fist into his cheeks until I heard bone crack.  His or mine I would never know. My robe and fists were gilded by the time I was pulled away, shock slowing the reactions of those around me. It took three of them on each arm to steer me back to the center of the room. My hair hung in my face as I laughed, raising my head up to glare at the man who would kill me.

 

_ Do your worst _ I said, baring my teeth in a smile as he reached down, taking my blades and slowly unwrapping them.   _ Do your worst. _

 

I was still laughing when my throat was cut.  My arms were free and my hands went to my neck, trying to stem the dark arterial flow that soaked into the silken robe I wore and turned it red where it was not already gold.  My world was beginning to fade into blackness when the man knelt in front of me, hand brushing my hair from my face so he could whisper in my ear.

 

_ As you wish, Cyclebreaker. _

 

\---

 

There is no discernable difference between floating and not having a body.  I could not tell if I was floating or if I did not have a body but I could  _ see  _ and  _ hear _ .  I did not breathe.  I did not move. Was I alive?  Furthermore who am “I”?

 

_ You are Cephalon Kaus _

 

The voice startles me out of my dazed thoughts.  Of course. Cephalon Kaus.

 

_ Do you know who I am? _

 

Ballas of the Orokin.   
  
_ Good.  Do you know who that is? _

 

My gaze turns to what appears to be a suit of armor, but I know somehow that they are alive.  Alive with an unexplainable force flowing within their veins and as I look a deep sense of sorrow washes over me, but it is gone a moment later.  A glitch that barely registers in my mind. Perhaps it is sorrow that I do not know.

 

_ That is your Tenno.  Your Operator. How do you feel about them? _

 

It feels like there’s a hand on the back of a neck that I do not have, ice cold fingers digging into flesh that did not exist as I hesitate before answering.  Tenno. I know that word, that name but I cannot place it. How do I feel?

 

_ It is a simple question. _

 

For him, perhaps.  He does not feel like there is a storm inside of himself that is held back by only a few pieces of glass.  Eventually one thought emerges from the tumult inside my mind, solidifying and holding back the storm with something firmer than glass.  Something that causes it to dissipate. I have to protect them. They will fight and they will kill and they will be hurt but at the end of the day I have to protect them and I will do everything in my power to make that happen.

 

Even if it meant I would lose my life, I would protect them.

 

_ Very good, Kalis Orous.  Very good. _

 

My anger surprises him.  He did not expect my response.  I do not shout, but I speak and my voice is cold and mechanical.  Synthesized from inside the body that I now realized I had - floating in space, a ship that was to hold my Tenno when they were not fighting.   
  


_ My name is Kaus. _  I say, and then I add, although I do not know why:

 

_ Kalis Orous is dead. _

**Author's Note:**

> Quote from man stabbed: What are you going to do, stab me?


End file.
